


Breath of Life

by Writcraft



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Art, Belting, Blow Jobs, Caning, Corporal Punishment, Cross-Generation Relationship, Digital Art, Fanart, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Self-Harm, Shower Sex, Spanking, Teacher/Student Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-15 11:11:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4604514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the final battle, Severus Snape takes the opportunity to create a new persona and leave his past behind.  For five years Sebastian Prince – former Durmstrang professor, potions consultant and erstwhile disciplinarian – enjoys relative anonymity, until an owl from Harry Potter arrives at Sebastian’s home bearing an unusual request.  Severus introduces Harry to the delights of corporal punishment but it isn’t long before old tensions resurface and Severus struggles to keep his true identity hidden, ignoring conflicting emotions which are anything but professional.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breath of Life

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to A for beta reading, all remaining mistakes are my own. Thank you to the wonderful mod gracerene for their patience and for running this fantastic fest.

One week before the fifth anniversary of his death, an unfamiliar owl arrives at Severus Snape’s office carrying a thick roll of parchment which bears no name. The owl is straightforward and gets right to the heart of the matter.

_I understand you offer certain services and I would like to book an appointment for a week today._

_Discretion is essential._

_P.S. Just send your reply back with the owl. He might look daft, but he knows where to go._

Severus’ eyebrow arches as the small owl cocks its head to the side and then pecks at one of his first editions. With a glare at the offending creature, Severus offers it a treat and strokes his fingers over the parchment, feeling every line of Potter’s script under his fingertips.

Severus allows himself a small, gleeful smile at the thought of Potter carefully crafting his letter and sending it off in a moment of impulsive, Gryffindor recklessness. Potter wouldn’t have considered for one moment that his handwriting might be so easily recognised. A rare bubble of delight wells within Severus, and he imagines the expression on Potter’s face upon discovering the recipient of his awkward owl. Not that Severus can ever afford to luxuriate in _that_ particular pleasure without revealing his best kept secret.

Peculiar, the carefully chosen date. It can’t be a coincidence that Potter would request an appointment on the anniversary of the war. Severus leans back in his seat and closes his eyes. He can picture Potter quite clearly from grainy photographs in the _Prophet_. A _Minister_ now. _The_ Minister, and a reluctant one by all accounts - forced into politics in an era where the wizarding world demanded a vision of hope for the future – a world which saw Kingsley Shacklebolt elevated to a lofty global position supervising a specialist team of international Aurors. 

Severus allows himself a moment to imagine Potter standing before an indulgent audience, with young witches swooning at his every word. He speaks with clear, careful precision. His brow creases in a gentle line and he keeps his jaw firm; his gaze steady. He tells those gathered how his heroic efforts simply weren’t quite enough to save everyone, and an adoring crowd wipes tears of gratitude from their cheeks.

Severus opens his eyes, his lips curving into a smile. To think that after delivering such a speech the Minister himself would venture hundreds of miles from London to indulge his darkest fantasies. Severus’ body warms at the idea of Potter, exposed and wanting. Hard, and needy. _Begging_. How fitting they should be together on the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts of all days. How pleasurable it would be to witness Potter’s shame and to hear his eager pleas for more. Severus licks his lips. He can almost taste the perspiration on Potter's brow, and he can only imagine how Potter might look when caught between pleasure and pain - unable to fully articulate the release he craves a from the burden of his memories.

Severus picks up his quill and takes care to respond in a flowery script unlike the neat, fastidious writing Potter would instantly recognise. He writes with curved strokes and flourishes, enjoying the decedent flow of ink as he disguises himself as best he can in both manner and script. It wouldn’t do to show his hand and risk unmasking himself at this juncture. Severus Snape is dead. He has no intention of allowing Harry Potter to bring him back to life, foisting him into the spotlight to bear the relentless scrutiny of those who remain distrustful of Severus and his role in the war. Severus reads the papers, after all. He knows what people think of him. 

When he finishes his response, Severus settles back to admire his handiwork. He pours himself a self-congratulatory drink and hesitates for the briefest moment, before folding up his reply and watching the owl disappear into the night.

*

Potter arrives in the evening, disguised with the kind of clever magic he must have learned from someone at the Ministry. Severus purses his lips and takes in the shaggy hair in a dull, mousy brown and tuts at Potter’s attempts to make himself inconspicuous.

“I take it you’re Prince?” Potter surveys the dark corridor and flashes Severus a grin which makes him look Potter-like again, despite his plain appearance and fusty tweeds. “Funny. You look a bit like someone I used to know.”

“Is that so?” Severus stays in the shadows and lets Potter enter the small hallway. He congratulates himself on his refined Polyjuice brew which alters his appearance sufficiently to throw his clients off guard. “Did you attend Durmstrang?”

“Hardly,” Potter responds with a snort.

“Then I expect it is merely a coincidence.” Severus gestures to a seat in front of his wide desk and sits on the other side, eyeing Potter. “I do not allow my customers to use magic when they avail of my services. That includes the use of any potions, charms or spells which alter your appearance. I prefer to know who I am dealing with.”

Potter raises his eyebrows. His expression flickers as if he wants to argue. After a charged moment, he relents and removes his wand. He flicks it and meets Severus’ gaze head on, with a hint of unspoken challenge.

“Better?”

  
[](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/crossfest_mod/69766898/3950/3950_original.jpg)   
_Harry Revealed_  


Severus’ chest tightens at the sight of Potter sitting less than two feet away from him. His hair is just as unruly as ever; his eyes the same piercing green. There's a small mark on his skin, just underneath his chin where he must have caught himself shaving in preparation for numerous public appearances. Severus prefers Potter caught off guard by the press. He likes the dark shadows of stubble which often adorn Potter's face together with a gritty, determined smile. The off duty looks suits Potter far better than the guise of clean-shaven Minister, fresh from making heroic speeches. Nevertheless, Severus bites his tongue and resists the urge to make a pointed comment about Potter's inability to manage a simple task like shaving. Severus finds it mildly aggravating that Potter makes no attempt to disguise himself and wants to berate him for relenting so quickly. He wonders at Potter’s foolish disregard for privacy, and resists the urge to glare. “I believe I understand now why discretion is important.”

Potter holds Severus’ eyes steadily and barely flinches. “I don’t want this getting into the _Prophet_. It’s the last thing I need.”

“Very well.” Severus waves a dismissive hand and makes a show of rummaging through some papers. “Perhaps you can tell me what you expect from this experience.”

Potter’s cheeks take on a pleasing flush, pink spots blooming on his skin. “I’ve heard about your services on the grapevine. I suppose I’m curious.”

“Your enthusiasm is overwhelming.” Severus rolls his eyes and folds his hands together on the desk. It’s curious that idle gossip would lead Potter to something Severus barely bothers to advertise anymore. He wonders who Potter talks to about such things. “What do you understand the nature of this service to be, exactly?”

“School role play for adults. Detention.” Potter shrugs, and leans forward. His voice dips and wavers at the edges. “With spanking and things.”

“Spanking and _things_?” Severus tries not to roll his eyes again and gestures around the room. “We are quite alone. There is no need to lower your voice. Surely you’re not embarrassed, _Minister_?” 

Potter sits back in his seat and looks disgruntled, pointedly ignoring the question. “Are you always like this?”

Severus shakes his head and withdraws a piece of parchment setting out some basic rules and regulations. “Only with those I consider to be particularly unruly.” He gives Potter a smirk and watches him peruse the parchment. Potter’s tongue flicks over his lips and his hair falls over his eyes, and Severus has to bite back a groan at the idea of putting Potter through a particularly rigorous detention.

“No sexual services?” Potter tips his chin and he shifts in his chair, casting Severus a brief look. “Pity.”

Severus keeps his expression smooth, resisting the urge to react to Potter’s brazen observation. “There are places in Knockturn Alley you can go for such things, if you wish. I typically have no desire to engage sexually with my clients.”

“Typically?” Potter furrows his brow. His jaw clenches and he looks almost angry - no doubt having expected Severus to fall at his feet during their first meeting. 

Severus taps his fingers on the desk, and meets Potter’s gaze. “Exceptions can always be made if that is what both parties want, but it is rarely something I desire.”

“I see.” Potter's cross expression fades into something which almost resembles relief. He relaxes and gives Severus a brief smile, pushing the parchment back towards him. “This looks fine to me.”

“Very well.” Severus only barely stops himself from rubbing his hands together at the thought of putting Potter in a Slytherin uniform. “Now, I wish to know your level of experience.”

Potter’s cheeks heat again and he clears his throat. “This would be my first time doing anything like this.”

The euphoric feeling which has been steadily increasing since the arrival of Potter’s owl, heightens. “A virgin. How curious.”

“Not a virgin exactly.” Potter laughs, and the heat leaves his cheeks. He looks more like his father than ever, cheeky and provocative. He leans forward with a small smile playing on his lips. “Not in the way you mean, at least.”

“No?” Severus keeps his tone cool and his expression smooth, damned if he’ll let Potter see his disappointment. He supposes he should have expected Potter to have a wealth of experience, with _Witches Weekly_ plastering pictures of him looking awkwardly into the camera on an infuriatingly regular basis.

“No,” Potter confirms. He hooks his ankle over his knee and appraises Severus. “I've been doing a bit of research.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Severus mutters.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing.” Severus waves his hand for Potter to continue. 

“I’ve read a bit about this sort of thing. I’m intrigued.”

“What kind of literature is available in Ministry libraries which enables you to get a grasp of the finer points of corporal punishment?” 

“Nothing.” Potter stares at Severus and his lips tug into a smile. “Do you think I sit around all day reading books about getting spanked? Are you _barmy_?”

Severus wonders if he just might be, already regretting his hurry to respond to Potter’s owl. He scribbles something with his quill, gathering his thoughts. “I would like you to expand on why you find the idea of my services so intriguing.”

“Do I have to?” Potter pulls a face and then scrunches up his nose thoughtfully when Severus responds with a curt nod of his head, his quill poised in a pretence of taking further notes. “People seem to expect me to have all the answers, and I don't. It's been five years and I haven't had any time to stop and breathe. I don’t even know who I am anymore.” Potter shrugs, his expression cloudy. “I just need some time to work things out. Perhaps going back to who I was during the war will help – pretending to be in school again might be exactly what I need.”

“You may be better served seeing a Healer, if the problem is your emotional well-being.”

Potter's eyes bore into Severus, and he seems tempted to say something further. In the end he shrugs again, and the tension leaves his body. “Perhaps. But I also want to explore new things - things I've been curious about for a while. “You can't just start exploring with anyone when you're Minister and everybody expects you to be some sort of hero all the time.” His cheeks heat, a dull, dusky pink and he rakes a hand through his hair. “Besides, I like the idea of it.”

“It’s something you fantasise about?”

Potter’s voice falters and he presses his lips together, before nodding quickly. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

“And you haven't yet found a partner who is...amenable?” Severus holds his breath.

“Not yet,” Potter confirms, a small smile playing over his lips. “It's difficult to know who to trust in the wizarding world with Skeeter always sniffing around. With Muggles, I've got too many secrets. I don't want to start casting spells or turning their hair blue or something if it turns out I don't like it very much after all.”

Severus lets out a snort of laughter. “Casting wandless magic takes significant skill and concentration. I doubt it’s something even the great Harry Potter could achieve by _accident_.”

Potter laughs - his face breaking into a wide smile which stretches almost from ear to ear. “I don’t know about that, it happens with kids all the time. Best not to take the risk, don't you reckon?”

“You, however, are not a child.” Severus huffs, and jots down another meaningless note, underlining it twice in the hope Potter might think he's failing a test of some sort. “Nevertheless, abstinence may be preferable for the time being at least. I suggest you try to keep your hormones in check and resist any other _encounters_ for the duration of our time together.”

“Oh?” Potter waves the parchment at Severus, his eyebrow arched and his damnable smile still hovering. “Doesn't say anything about that in the rules.”

It’s not in the rules because Severus just made it up, for reasons he chooses not to examine too closely. The thought of Potter experimenting with a nubile young Weasley or Malfoy makes Severus bristle, not that he would ever disclose as much to Potter. He shuffles his papers and sniffs, not meeting Potter’s gaze. “I am not here to improve your sex life, Mr Potter. Not for all of the money in your vaults.” A fierce wave of jealousy passes through Severus, making his blood boil. “This is not something to be taken lightly - if you are serious about exploring your needs, I expect your full commitment and a little more readiness to accept instruction. This wilful impertinence does not bode well for our sessions together.”

Potter leans forward, his voice low and seductive. “Or perhaps it bodes very well? I get the impression you'd like to put me in detention now, if you could.”

Severus fights back the heat he can feel rising to his cheeks and looks away from Potter mustering a growl of indignation. Once he collects himself, he settles back in his seat and contemplates Potter. “It would be useful to know if you have a preference for witches or wizards.”

“Why?” Potter stares at Severus, crossing his arms. “I'm not sure what that's got to do with anything, you said yourself there's no funny business involved.”

“Yet some clients experience a _reaction_ of sorts.” Severus lingers on the word reaction, letting his gaze travel rather pointedly over Potter's body and enjoying the flush his stare elicits. “I simply like to be prepared for all eventualities.”

“Oh.” Potter narrows his eyes, and he contemplates Severus momentarily before responding. “Prepared how?”

Severus grits his teeth and glares at Potter. “Just answer the bloody question, you little twit.”

Potter responds with a laugh. “Don’t like questions much, do you? Fine. I'm flexible. I have a preference for wizards, but it's really more about the person for me.”

“Is that so?” Severus traces his finger over his lips, the unexpected information sending a flash of heat through his body. Despite his hints, he hadn’t expected Potter to so openly admit an attraction to wizards. Severus thinks of his own miserable time coming out and feels a flash of envy that this – as everything else – should come so easily to Potter. “You have sufficient experience to be certain that is the case?”

Potter snorts. “I don’t need experience to know what makes me hard.” He seems to realise what he’s just said as soon as the words fall from his lips and he flushes to the tips of his ears. “But yeah, I’ve had some experience. Not that I have much luck with that sort of thing.”

“Is that so?” They have long since deviated from Severus’ usual script but this is Potter after all - it’s hardly surprising one visit from him would turn everything upside down.

Potter nods. “It's not easy, is it? This falling in love business. I thought it would be the easiest thing in the world, but it's not.”

“I wouldn't know. I hardly have time for such foolishness.” Severus places his quill back in his pot, pressing his fingers together and looking at Potter. “I was labouring under the misapprehension we were discussing sex, not love. For most the two can be mutually exclusive.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Potter looks uncertain.

“Let there be no doubt about the nature of our arrangement.” Severus glares at Potter for emphasis. “I don’t want the Minister for Magic turning up on my doorstep like a lovesick crup at all hours.”

Potter lets out a short bark of laughter. “Blimey, you’re up yourself.”

“I’m _what_?” Severus keeps his tone cool and resists the urge to throttle Potter.

“It’s a turn of phrase.” 

“I am well aware of that, thank you for enlightening me.” Severus glowers but Potter refuses to look contrite. “I thought you had a particularly close relationship with one of the Weasleys?”

“You've got a good memory.” Potter's voice is light, and Severus has the distinct impression he's being teased. “I'm not sure that was even in the papers, much.”

“Yet the fact you are close with the family is common knowledge. I simply put two and two together.” Severus waves his hand dismissively, mentally cursing himself for letting his guard down. 

Potter shakes his head, loosening smooth patches of hair until it sticks up in haphazard tufts, making him look like Potter of old. “There was something, a while ago. With Ginny. It didn't really work for either of us.” He looks around as if there might be someone listening and leans forward, dipping his voice low. “I’m not really what people expect. They always expect me to be in charge. Sometimes I think it would be nice not to be in charge. I think I’d really like that.”

Severus arches an eyebrow and holds Potter's gaze, keeping his voice smooth. “I can assure you I have no problem whatsoever with you relinquishing control. I expect you’re woefully unable to take proper instruction being so used to everybody hanging off your every word, but I am not remotely impressed by your title and infamy. To the contrary, I believe it would be rather good for you to accept instruction for once – to give up your position of authority.”

“ _Yes_.” Potter's eyes darken and a slight tremor passes through his body. He closes his eyes briefly, and then snaps them open with a half-smile. “That’s why I came to you. I knew you'd be like this.”

Severus wonders again how Potter came upon the details of his nearly defunct business, but shakes the thought from his mind. Instead he looks Potter up and down and hums thoughtfully. “If you wish, I have a little time now.”

Potter's eyes shine with enthusiasm. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, looking around. “Me too.”

“You have chosen an appropriate word to use?” Severus gestures to the parchment setting out the rules of his engagement and Potter nods, his lips tugging into a small smile.

“Gillyweed.”

“Indeed?” Severus tries not to react, keeping his face smooth. “Then we are ready to begin.”

Potter grins. “Brilliant. How do you want me?”

*

Seeing Potter dressed in Slytherin colours is a treat indeed. Severus is usually content with bland, non-descript Muggle uniforms, but the idea of putting Potter in a Slytherin tie was simply too good to resist.

“I’m really more of a Gryffindor, you know.” Potter adjusts his tie and pulls a face at Severus. “Is the tie really necessary?”

“Are you complaining _Mr_ Potter?” Severus allows his fingers to brush against Potter’s arm and enjoys the way Potter breath hitches at the touch. 

“No. Aren’t you going to put on robes?”

Severus glances at his black cotton trousers and white shirt, rolled up at the sleeves. His potion thankfully disguises the ugly blight on his forearm as well as his unfavourable looks – hiding a multitude of sins.

“I am quite comfortable, I can assure you.”

Potter swallows and looks at the desk with a little trepidation. “How does this work? Do I have to bend over that or something?”

“Not today.” Severus walks around Potter, taking in his form. “You can bend over the desk when you’re ready for the cane. I would like to begin with something a little easier than that.”

“Oh?” Potter’s voice is reed-thin and wavering. “Such as?”

“My hand.” Severus steps away from Potter and settles onto a large chair. He pats his thigh and gives Potter a look. “Over my knee.”

“Are you mad?” Potter looks around wildly and then gulps, as he stares at Severus. “I’ll look ridiculous. We’re nearly the same height.”

Severus turns his eyes heavenward and counts to five. “That is part of the point of the experience, Potter. These are _adult_ spanking sessions. I am quite accustomed to interacting with men of your size – often significantly taller men.” Severus can’t resist a small dig, pleased to see Potter’s fierce glare in response. His body warms at the thought of disciplining Potter while he attempts to answer back. “Do you intend to stand there arguing with me all day?”

“Not all day, no.” Potter shifts forwards, eyeing Severus’ lap with trepidation. “If you’re sure?”

“Quite sure.” Severus pats his thigh again until Potter drapes himself over Severus, his legs hanging awkwardly over Severus’ thighs and his arms stretched out so his fingers point at the floor.

Potter is toned and taller than Severus gave him credit for, but Severus is stronger than he looks. He pulls Potter close and arranges him so the position is a little more comfortable for them both, humming with contentment at the way Potter clutches onto the hems of his trousers.

“Like this?” Potter’s voice holds a rather curious note, a hint of deference and the slightest plea for approval. 

“Just like that.” Severus brushes his hand over Potter’s spine and he can feel the tremble which runs the full length of Potter’s body.

“Don’t you need my trousers off?” Potter’s voice is hoarse, and he shifts just a little in Severus’ lap. His body is already responding and Severus bites back a groan at the sensation of Potter hardening against his thigh.

“Not today.” Severus brings his hand down lightly on Potter’s backside, back and forth, back and forth. He doles out a series of light strokes to warm Potter up and continues. “Another time, yes.”

“There’ll be another time?” Potter mutters a curse under his breath and he presses his backside up a little, as if eager for Severus’ hand.

Severus strikes Potter’s backside again, harder this time, and lets out a contented hum when he hears Potter’s breath leave him in a gasp.

“Certainly.”

*

Reluctantly, Severus stops after Potter’s backside is warm and his skin hot through the thin cotton of his school trousers.

“Up.”

“Is that all?” Potter sounds put out, his voice still unsteady.

“For the time being.” Severus nudges Potter from his lap. “I wanted you to become accustomed to the sensation.” He takes in Potter’s ragged breathing and snorts softly. “This is hardly a punishment.”

“I don’t know about that.” Potter rubs his backside as he stands with a wince. His cheeks are flushed pink and his clothes crumpled. “What should I do with the uniform?”

“Take it home with you. You will arrive wearing it for our next session.” Severus busies himself at his desk, trying not to look too closely at the obvious bulge at the front of Potter’s trousers.

“And when will that be?”

Severus looks at his calendar largely to keep Potter waiting. 

“Whenever you wish,” he says, eventually.

“Right then.” With an enormous smile, Potter gives Severus a wink and steps through the Floo with a whistle. “Until the next time.”

*

Potter returns several days later, dressed just as Severus hoped.

“Afternoon, Professor.” He gives Severus a broad smile, adjusting his tie. His hair is messy and rumpled, his shirt untucked and hanging loose. His shirt sleeves are rolled up just below the elbow, displaying toned, tanned arms flecked with dark hair. On his wrist Potter wears a dark brown leather band with a silver snake slithering over the material. He holds up his hand and gives Severus a wink. “I’m not sure if this is allowed, but if you want a Slytherin I suppose I should have some sort of snake thing. Shouldn’t I?”

Severus folds his arms and gives Potter a stern look. “You’re awfully impertinent for somebody in detention.”

“Am I?” Potter looks surprised, as if everybody strolls into detention fifteen minutes late and winks at their Professor.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.” Severus walks around Potter, taking in the way his trousers – black cotton and a little more fitted than Severus remembers – show off the taut curves of his backside. Severus bites back a groan, allowing himself a moment to take his fill. As much as he hates to admit it, Potter has improved enormously with age. “You have always been so…insolent.”

“Oh, I definitely have. Sir,” Potter adds, as an afterthought.

“Nothing a firm hand won’t correct.” Severus places his hands on Potter’s shoulders and speaks in his ear, his voice a low hum. 

“Is this allowed?” Potter leans back a little, his backside brushing against Severus’ crotch sending a flash of heat through Severus. 

“Are you suggesting I would do something improper?” Potter smells like freshly cut grass and oranges. His skin warms Severus’ hands, and his hair brushes Severus’ cheek. Being this close to Potter is monumentally distracting. Severus wants to wrap Potter’s tie around his fist and yank him into a kiss – the kind of kiss that will show Potter there’s a world of opportunity outside of his Muggle dalliances and meaningless encounters with witches and wizards looking to sell their stories. Instead, Severus nudges Potter forwards and keeps his voice as steady as he can manage with Potter so close. “Bend over the desk, Mr Potter.”

“The desk?” Potter’s voice shudders. “I mean, yes Professor.”

Potter bends over the desk and Severus takes a moment to collect himself.

His skin stays warm as if Potter never moved away, and the air still carries the faint scent of grass and sun-kissed oranges.

*

Severus takes his time selecting the right kind of cane. He can feel Potter watching his every move, so he makes a show of going through his extensive collection one by one. He strikes his paddle lightly against his hand, savouring the dull thud. He slides a long, thick cane through his fingers and hums thoughtfully when a slight whimper escapes Potter’s lips. It’s been a long time since Severus has had the opportunity to use his collection of canes, to use them on Potter seems remarkably fitting.

Severus replaces the thick cane in its holder, because he favours something with a little more sting. He gives his birch a quick flick, the sound of the slim branches moving the air drawing an audible groan from Potter. The ability to give his traditional birch a magical lease of life makes Severus thankful he’s a wizard. Discovering a potion to keep his birch as good as new for an indefinite period was definitely one of the more personally advantageous discoveries of Severus’ professional career.

Finally, Severus moves to his favourite rattan canes. Each one curves at the end, ranging in diameter and length. Severus takes a moment to stroke his fingers over the wood before selecting his cane of choice. 

Potter’s hands flex in place, and he finally tears his gaze away from Severus. He tips his head to the side, his breathing heavy in the quiet room. Gone is his usual cheek and warm laugh, and Severus is surprised to find he almost misses it. 

“I believe six of the best will do for the time being.” Severus runs the cane along Potter’s backside, back and forth. He allows him to get used to the sensation of the wood against his body. When Potter’s breathing steadies, Severus brings the cane down once. The motion causes Potter to jump, and he lets out a strangled sound as his hands furl and unfurl again.

Severus brings the cane down for a second strike, taking care to change his angle just a little. This time, Potter’s voice follows the strike. Severus braces himself for the use of a quick _Gillyweed_ and Potter fleeing from Severus’ home never to be seen again. Instead, Potter responds to the second strike with hardly a tremor, his voice rough with arousal. 

“Thank you, Professor.”

Yet again, Potter takes Severus completely by surprise. He brings the cane down for a third strike. He watches, fascinated as Potter shifts his legs apart and rocks forward with a decadent moan. 

“Silence, Potter!” Severus taps the cane lightly over Potter’s backside, drawing another ragged moan. “Any more cheek and you will find yourself in an extended detention next week.”

“Oh Merlin…” Potter’s voice is low and eager, his hands clutching at the air as the cane strikes for a fourth – and fifth – time against his trousers. “What happens in extended detention?”

“That, Mr Potter, is for me to know and you to find out.” Severus brings the cane down with a final _swish_. 

He replaces the cane in the holder and settles at his desk, picking up his quill. He meets Potter’s eyes, as he rights himself. 

“Two pages on the dangers of improper use of Amortentia.” Severus gestures to the chair in front of his desk. “I trust you have parchment, and a quill?”

“No.” Potter looks a little wild, the outline of his cock straining against his thin school trousers. The sight makes Severus’ mouth water and he forces himself to keep his eyes firmly fixed on Potter’s. “You never said-”

Severus holds up a hand, cutting Potter off mid-flow. “You may borrow a quill for now. I will punish you for your forgetfulness when you have completed your task.”

“But that’s not _fair_.” Potter’s cheek flame with indignant anger and he takes Severus back to Hogwarts, when the air was heavy with the scent of potions and leather-bound books. “I didn’t know I’d have to bring stuff like that.”

“You should have thought ahead.” Severus waves his hand, sending a small school desk across the room together with a roll of parchment and a quill. “I trust you remember your studies sufficiently to complete the task at hand?”

“The dangers of Amortentia?” Potter’s jaw tightens and he picks up his quill. “Yeah, I think I’ve got it.”

“Very well.”

Severus allows himself a small, indulgent smile as Potter begins to write. Eventually Potter’s muttering stops, and when Severus next looks up, Potter is writing carefully. His tongue pokes between his lips, his brow furrowed in concentration. He adjusts his tie and keeps writing, as if he’s the only person in the room. 

When Potter doesn’t look up, eventually Severus sits back and watches.

*

“Finished.” Potter places his quill into the pot and sends his parchment to Severus with a flick of his hand. The display of wandless magic is impressive, although Severus doesn’t plan to tell Potter as much.

“I will review it before our next meeting.” Severus rolls up the parchment and puts it in his drawer, tapping his desk. “Now there’s the small matter of your punishment.”

“Oh yeah. That.” Potter gives Severus a glare, but the corners of his lips twitch into a barely suppressed smile. 

“Assume the position.” Severus selects the same cane as before, waiting for Potter to get into position. “Another six.”

“Okay.” Potter’s voice holds a note of eager trepidation, and Severus runs the cane along his backside before bringing it down with targeted precision. “ _Fuck_.”

Severus smirks, and lets the cane swish through the air again. He counts the strikes out loud as Potter flinches and squirms beneath them. On the final strike, Potter cries out just as Severus lets out an enthusiastic “ _Six!_.”

Potter doesn’t move as his breathing comes in rough gasps. Eventually he pulls himself upright, adjusting his uniform and looking at his feet to hide the reddening of his cheeks.

Severus replaces the cane and takes a seat at his desk once again. “Class dismissed.”

“Same time next week?” Potter looks up, the heat in his cheeks dissipating and a small smile playing over his lips. 

“Indeed.” Severus checks his calendar and makes a pretence of marking something in the already vacant spot. “I expect we will need a little longer.”

“I’ll make time.” Potter steps into the Floo and gives Severus a broad smile. “You’re the boss, after all.”

Severus is about to tell Potter off for his impertinence (again) but with a whoosh of the Floo, Potter disappears.

As soon as he is alone, Severus retrieves Potter’s parchment and begins to read.

*

The next week Potter arrives, full of the same cocksure confidence. He perches on the edge of Severus’ desk as he makes a show of marking papers.

“I still think you look familiar.”

“I hardly think so,” Severus murmurs. He presses his quill against the parchment and scribbles out a quick note. “I certainly never met _you_ before you came barging into my home demanding detentions.”

“I do pay for this, you know.” As if to prove a point, Potter puts down a small purse filled with coins. “See?”

“I see.” Severus drops the purse into his desk drawer, the exchange of money leaving him cold. He wonders what Potter would say if he was to appear as himself for once, but they have gone too far for Severus to risk giving Potter the opportunity to recoil with disgust or turn on him in anger. “We will do things a little differently today.”

“Oh?” Potter looks curious, his eyes flicking to the canes behind Severus. “Different how?”

“No trousers or underpants.” Severus keeps his voice all business despite the way his cock hardens at the thought of Potter naked and wanting. 

“With the cane?” Potter doesn’t seem too put out by the idea of being half naked, but the flush in his cheeks gives him away.

“At first.” Severus finally looks at Potter properly. “There is something else I wish to use afterwards.”

“Oh.” Potter’s eyes flicker and a curious smile tugs at his lips. “Alright then.”

Before Severus can say another word, Potter’s on his feet and unbuckling his belt. It takes a monumental effort for Severus to avert his eyes until Potter is in position, keeping his back firmly to Potter as he selects the same cane as last time. When he walks to the other side of the desk, he bites his bottom lip and takes in the downy hair on Potter’s thighs, the slim, toned legs and the curve of his backside. He lets the cane _tap, tap_ against Potter’s skin, before landing a strike on Potter’s backside where it leaves a pink stripe.

“ _Fuck_.” Potter sucks in a breath, jumping as the wood connects sharply with his skin. Severus brings the cane down for a second time, and Potter’s response is to hiss and shift his legs a little apart.

“Six of the best again, I think.” Severus brings the cane down for a third time, particularly focused on the pink line which takes on a duskier hue as the cane falls on the same spot the second time in a row.

“Then what?” Potter’s voice is rough and he lets out a shout as the cane falls for the fourth time. His breathing is heavy and tremulous. “Another _fuck_ …” 

The cane lands for the fifth time, and then the sixth. Severus takes in the marks on Potter’s backside, itching to run his fingers over the red stripes and the warm sections of flesh where he has left his distinctive mark.

“Another what, Mr Potter?” Severus gives Potter a moment to collect himself, unbuckling his belt as Potter catches his breath.

“Another cane. Hang on, what’s going on?” Potter twists in place, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. “Are you taking your trousers off too?”

Severus snorts and he shakes his head, giving Potter a look. “I have already told you this is not that sort of arrangement. Besides, I have no desire to fuck someone without their consent. Rest assured, if I ever _do_ wish to do anything along those lines I will not suggest it when you’re bent over my desk, stark bollock naked. I tend to find it is wise not to _take someone by surprise_ where fucking is concerned.”

“If?” Potter’s voice takes on a hopeful note. “You think you might want to do that one day?”

Severus ignores the question and folds his belt in half, giving it an experimental smack against his palm.

Potter’s eyes widen and he turns his face back towards the wall once more. “ _Oh_.”

“You are amenable?”

“Yes, Professor.” Potter gives his backside an aggravating little wiggle. “I’ve been a _very_ naughty boy.”

With a snort of laughter, Severus brings the belt down on Potter’s backside.

“Then I shall see to it you are thoroughly disciplined.”

*

“I can give you a potion to use, twice a day. I recommend you use it when you get up in the morning and then again, before bed.” Severus notes the instructions on the bottle as Potter bends to pick up his trousers with a slight wince. “You have a good tolerance for pain. I was able to use my belt in a way I would typically reserve for more experienced play partners.”

“I liked the belt.” Potter’s eyes flick to Severus’ belt and he runs his tongue over his lips. “Better than the cane.”

“You are, of course, not supposed to _like_ it.” Severus is pleased nevertheless, and he hands Potter the potion gesturing that he should dress. 

“Can I put some on now?” Potter holds his trousers over his crotch in a vain attempt to hide his erection. “I think I need it.”

“Very well.” Severus hands Potter the potion and tries not to look too closely at Potter’s naked form. “The bathroom is just down the hall.”

“Thanks.” His cheeks red, Potter makes his way awkwardly to the bathroom.

After a moment or two, Severus frowns at the door. Potter should be back by now. He leaves his desk and makes his way into the hall, his hand hovering over the bathroom door.

“ _Fuck_ , yes.”

A low, guttural groan stops Severus in his tracks and he drops his hand to his side. He leans closer to the door, the sound of Potter’s ragged huffs of breath now quite clear. Severus can hear the familiar slide of flesh against flesh, the steady grunt of desire and then – just as he has to press the heel of his palm to his own trousers – a muffled shout as Potter climaxes less than two feet away from Severus.

With heat rising in his cheeks, Severus turns swiftly from the door and settles himself back at his desk so the full extent of his own arousal is well hidden from Potter.

“That potion’s brilliant, thanks.” Fully clothed, Potter finally emerges. He has a daft smile on his face and his eyes are dark and sated. “Did you read my essay?”

“I did.” Severus curses Potter for taking advantage of his moment alone, his own body tense with arousal. He takes senses Potter’s need for conversation and with a sigh, places his quill in the nearest ink pot. “You know how to make tea, I trust?”

“Obviously.” Potter’s eyebrows shoot up beneath his fringe.

“Well then. You will find a kettle on the stove, teabags in the second cupboard to the left of the stove and milk in the pantry under a cooling charm. I prefer my tea strong, with just a little milk.”

“And sugar?”

Severus snorts. “I might have known. Next to the teabags.”

Severus watches every flex of Potter’s slender thighs and taut muscles, as he leaves the room to make tea, whistling as he goes.

With a muttered curse, Severus takes the time to compose himself and extracts Potter’s essay from the drawer, smoothing it looks a little less well-read by the time Potter returns with two piping hot mugs of tea.

“I found the mugs. I thought this one would be good for you.” Potter hands Severus a mug with a ridiculous looking cartoon snake on the front – a gift from Albus which Severus keeps at the very back of his collection of innocuous plain china cups and mugs.

“You have been rummaging around, I see.”

“Not really.” Potter has the grace to look a little chagrined. “You’ve got an awful lot of Slytherin things considering you’re from Durmstrang.”

“I never claimed to have _attended_ Durmstrang.” 

“Oh?” Potter blows on the mug of tea, taking a tentative sip. “Did you know my dad, then? James Potter?”

“I believe everybody of a certain age knows of your father.” Severus taps his finger on the parchment. “You wished to know if I had read your essay.”

“Oh, that.” Potter shrugs in a couldn’t care less fashion and takes another gulp of his tea. “Did you enjoy it?”

“I rarely _enjoy_ reading essays, Potter. Not even those written by the Minister himself.” Severus eyes Potter closely. “Nevertheless, it was a novel approach.”

“I thought so.” Potter holds Severus’ gaze. “I thought you might appreciate the initiative.”

Severus runs his fingers over the hurriedly penned words. “The beginning is derivative. A basic analysis of the risks of using Amortentia which appears to be little more than regurgitated textbook. The latter half is more…interesting.”

“It’s not like you asked me to write about the dangers of Death Cap Draught or Babbling Beverage.” The steam from the tea clouds Potter’s glasses momentarily. “I thought I should put something in about the human effect, because it’s all about love, isn’t it? That’s not something you bugger around with.”

 

“Amortentia hardly creates _love_ , no matter what the draughtsman may tell you.”

“It’s all an illusion. Sort of like falling for someone who isn’t real. Don’t you think?”

A cold chill grips Severus’ heart as Potter gives him a steady, open stare. 

He doesn’t respond, and Potter continues to sip his tea before changing the subject.

“Professor?”

“Prince will do,” Severus mutters.

“I’d like you to call me Harry, if you don’t mind. Not Minister, or Potter or _Mr Potter_. Perhaps we could save that for class. So I know where I am.”

“Very well.” Severus takes a sip of his own tea, which Potter – Harry – has brewed to perfection. “You may call me…Sebastian.” 

A cloud passes briefly over Harry’s face. “ _Sebastian_. I like it.”

Severus rolls his eyes and ignores the compliment. “We should schedule a time for our next appointment.”

“I’ve got Ministry stuff for a fortnight. Can we meet after that? There’s no getting out of it, I’m afraid.” Harry looks despondent and Severus tries to quell the wave of disappointment which floods through his body at the thought of breaking their weekly routine.

“I’m sure that can be arranged.”

*

A fortnight without Harry is too long.

No matter how hard he tries, Severus can’t seem to shake the thought of Harry seeking relief while Severus listened to every last pant and gasp. His accidental voyeurism makes Severus feel angry and aroused all at once, his irritation marginally outweighed by the flames of desire flickering deep in his belly. The burgeoning sensation of a new hope awakening takes Severus by surprise, and he curses Potter for the inconvenient state of affairs.

His near constant state of arousal is an infuriating distraction. Even when he tries to work Severus finds the image of Harry bent over his desk impossible to erase. 

“Am I early?”

Shaking himself, Severus looks at the clock and then back at Harry, wondering when exactly _Potter_ became _Harry_ and this whole sorry situation became something other than sport to pass the time.

“If anything, you're late.”

“Thought I might be.” Harry grins and begins to unbuckle his belt with eager readiness. “Do you want me over the desk again?”

“Over my lap, I think.” Severus sits in the chair he first spanked Harry in, giving him a pointed look. “Continue.”

Harry’s voice leaves him with a squeak. “It’s been a long fortnight and I’ve had a hell of a time of it. Are you sure? You want me over your knee with no trousers on?”

“I want you over my knee with no _clothes_ on,” Severus corrects, smoothly. “And yes, I am quite sure. Thank you for your concern.”

Harry pauses, biting his bottom lip. His eyes narrow and he looks at Severus closely as if he wants to say something. Eventually, he shrugs and with a small smile playing over his lips he tugs off the remainder of his clothes. He drapes himself over Severus’ legs, clutching onto his trousers once more.

“This feels weird.” He shifts in place and once again, Severus can feel the hardening of Harry’s cock against his leg. His own body begins to respond and the half-gurgle, half-gasp that comes from Harry seems to indicate he is only too aware of the impact his nakedness has on Severus.

“Now I suspect it feels even weirder.” Severus comments, dryly. He brushes his fingers over Harry’s backside, allowing himself a brief moment of touching Harry under the pretext of their sessions. “You have your word, Potter. You may use it whenever you wish.” 

“Merlin, no.” Harry wriggles slightly in an attempt to find a position which is a little less ungainly. “That’s the last thing I want to do.”

“Is that so?” Severus lets his fingers brush over Harry’s backside more firmly this time. Dusky pink and purple marks criss-cross over Harry’s skin and Severus frowns. “It has been nearly a fortnight. These should be long gone, particularly if you have been using your potion.”

Harry’s voice falters and he sounds almost embarrassed. “I didn’t use it. I didn’t know how I’d get through two weeks without seeing you. I wanted to feel it. Every day, when I was at my desk or sitting in a meeting I didn’t want to go to – every single day – I’d feel the marks and it felt…good. I like knowing those marks are there, where no one else can see. I like that they’re ours. I like the way they sting when I sit down.”

“Is that so?” Severus’ voice is gruff, and he brushes his hand over Harry’s backside again. “Perhaps I have been remiss in my punishments.”

“Remiss how?” Harry presses up towards Severus’ hand, moving a little against Severus.

“Remiss in not giving you the full extent of the punishment you deserve.” Severus brings up his knee a little to give Harry something to rock against. He lets out a small groan of his own when Harry presses in close, and he brings his hand down over Harry’s backside with a sharp smack.

Harry’s response is to press against Severus harder, a soft plea falling from his lips.

Days of missing Harry – of thinking about Harry – spill over into the moment, and Severus finally lets himself go. He allows himself to be guided by Harry’s body, flexing and moving against his own. He deviates from the usual, professional spanking he doles out to his clients. Instead, he treats Harry like a lover – dredging up old memories from a long time ago. He recalls the _swish_ of a flogger through the air and the light _smack_ of leather against flesh. Harry’s skin heats beneath his hand and Severus’ senses flood with the _thud, thud_ of paddle against skin; the _swipe_ of the cane and the agonising pleasure of a hot, tight mouth wrapped around his cock. 

“Good boy.” Severus lets the praise slip from his lips, and Harry responds with moan. His back arches, and Severus brings his hand down again and again, until his palm stings and Harry’s backside is flushed a deep, dusky red.

“Please…p-please.” Harry’s words spill from his lips as he rocks more urgently against Severus, seeking purchase. His voice trembles and Severus wonders if his forceful spanking has driven Potter to tears.

With a low growl, Severus lets Harry rut against his knee. “Please _what_?”

“You know what. You always know.”

And that’s all it takes. With a dull roar drowning out all of his prior protestations, Severus clenches his hands in Harry’s hair and pulls him into his lap. Harry’s lips taste salty and sweet when Severus kisses him fiercely. He grips his fist in Potter’s hair and tugs him close, devouring him as if he might never get another opportunity. He wraps his hand around Harry’s cock and strokes him with firm, eager tugs until Harry spills himself over Severus’ hand with a shout.

“ _Harry_.” Severus kisses behind Harry’s ear, moving his lips along the firm line of his jaw and finally capturing his lips again. They stay locked together, kissing until the heady kisses slow and Harry’s arms find their way around Severus’ neck.

“ _Severus_. I've been wanting to see you so much. I wanted to ask, but I didn't know how.” Harry’s voice is low and husky, his lips moving against Severus’ ear. “Let me see you?”

“You know?” A wave of anger pulses through Severus and he pushes Harry from his arms, standing quickly in an effort to put distance between them. He wonders how long Harry has known his secret, and heat flares in his cheeks. “Was this just a joke to you, Potter? Did you want to see how far you could push me, is that it? I expect you meant to laugh with your friends or maybe take your story to the _Prophet_.”

“Is that what you think?” Harry stands and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, as if he can't bear to taste Severus on his lips any longer. He yanks on his clothes until he’s facing Severus in a half-buttoned shirt and trousers. His feet remain bare and he scans the floor, looking for his socks with a muttered curse. “Is that really what you think of me?”

Severus uncorks the antidote to his potion with a shaking hand and gulps back the liquid in one smooth glug. His body shifts and alters and the sight of the ugly black mark on his forearm bleeds through his once tanned skin, stark against skin so white it’s nearly translucent. The once smooth lines of his arms become mottled with thin scars, and he can feel his face tighten and slims as the antidote completes the transformation.

Severus flexes his arm, seeing how Harry’s gaze flickers to the Mark. He sneers at Harry. “Is this what you want, Potter? Is _mine_ the face you see in your romantic delusions? I am nobody’s fantasy and I am certainly not yours.”

“You don’t know a thing about me. Even now, you don’t have a bloody clue.” Harry’s cheeks are flushed red and he stares at Severus, his eyes wide. “You think this has been _fun_ for me, knowing you'd prefer to hide behind another person's face than just tell me the bloody truth for once? What are you so scared of, anyway?”

“I am not _scared_ , Potter.” Severus curls his fingers around his wand and his lip curls. “When a man plays dead did it ever occur to you it’s because he does not want to be found?”

  
[](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/crossfest_mod/69766898/4234/4234_original.jpg)   
_Not Scared_  


“But you could have turned me away on the first day, if you didn't want me here. Why didn't you?” Harry stares at Severus, a tremor in his voice.

Severus doesn't want to think about that too closely and instead he says, “I am not in the habit of turning away paying customers.”

Stung, Harry's cheeks flush with bright red spots of hurt. He lets out a snort and his voice is rough with anger. “They've got words for people like you, _Professor_.”

Flames of anger burn through Severus' body, and the familiar white-hot rage that he associates with Potter and Black coils in his stomach. “And they have words for people like _you_. Are you so needy, so desperate for affection that you have to pay to satisfy your deviant desires? Did you believe for one moment this was anything more than a way to supplement my income? Idiotic child.”

“I hate you!” Harry's hands clench into fists and he picks up the tie, shaking it at Severus. “I bet you had a right old laugh dressing me up like a Slytherin. You think it’s okay to be angry with me because I knew the truth when you weren’t prepared to tell it? Well it’s not. You kissed me. You would have fucked me too, given half the chance. You’d have let me think you were someone else – let me _fall_ for someone else, and then what? Live the rest of your life sneaking off to take your potions so I never get the chance to see _you_.” Harry’s breathing slows and he drops the tie to the floor, looking defeated. “You mustn’t think much of yourself if that’s the kind of life you want. I know it’s not what I’m looking for.” His voice takes on a cold, hard edge which sends a shiver through Severus. “I’m not fond of cowards.”

“DON’T!” Severus’ shout leaves him in an explosive rush, his hand shaking with rage as he points towards the Floo. “You flatter yourself to imagine I want any sort of life with you at all.” 

“You stupid, stubborn prat.” Harry’s face crumples and his eyes shine, his eyelids fluttering closed as his chest heaves with the effort of breathing. “I should have known. I thought it’d be different now-”

“Now you’re _Minister?_.” Severus cuts Harry off mid flow. “You expected me to worship at your feet like the rest of your sycophants, I suppose. You expected me to admire how far you’ve come since the war.” Severus grips the scruff of Harry’s shirt and he shakes him, his body burning with white-hot rage. “You insolent, arrogant little fool. I see nothing more than the same child who stood in my classroom so many years ago – a lost little boy searching for something he’s never going to find.”

Harry’s hands find Severus’ chest. The warmth of his body against Severus sends fire through his veins and it takes every ounce of Severus’ strength not to close the distance between them and kiss Harry with every last shred of his anger – he wants to kiss away the flames of hatred, envy and yearning. He wants to kiss away the past and lose himself in the warmth of Harry’s smile and the lean, strong limbs which flex against Severus so eagerly. 

Before Severus can say another word, Harry pushes. He pushes until Severus stumbles backwards. Harry fixes Severus with a steely gaze and pulls himself to his full height. He's the Minister again - strong-shouldered and firm - only his eyes baring the full, naked extent of his hurt. “I thought it would be different now you _know me_.” Harry’s voice fills with emotion as he finishes his earlier sentence. He rakes a hand through his hair and his anger fades, his voice tired and broken. “You think you’re so brilliant, so clever, but you never heard me – not really. All of this, it’s been for nothing. I won’t be back. It’s been too long…” Harry trails off and then he laughs without humour, almost spitting out Severus’ earlier words. “Too long searching for something I’m never going to find.”

Severus closes his eyes for a moment while he catches his breath. He wonders if anyone has ever told Harry how much it hurts to look at him – to see Lily’s eyes staring back at him, reminding Severus of the shame of his past mistakes, making his stomach roll with disgust and self-loathing. “Get _out_ , Potter.” Severus allows a malicious tone to creep into his words and he sneers at Potter, wanting to claw at him and bring him back into his arms but unable to move. “You got exactly what you wanted - an opportunity to indulge your teenage schoolboy fantasies for a while.”

Potter's jaw locks and he gives Severus a firm look, before cursing under his breath and stepping into the Floo without another word.

*

A fortnight after Harry's angry departure, Severus finds his afternoon rudely interrupted by the sound of the Floo and Molly Weasley stepping onto his hearth with a cough and a shake of her head as she tries to clear the Floo powder from her ear. He raises his eyebrows at his unexpected visitor as soon as she gathers herself.

“Molly.”

“Severus.” Molly's eyebrows gather together in a frown and she studies Severus, clearly waiting for him to speak. Severus is reminded of his mum catching him reading one of his books about Dark magic and giving him a swift swat with the text. “I suppose you know your behaviour is completely unacceptable?”

  
[](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/crossfest_mod/69766898/4469/4469_original.jpg)   
_His Mother’s Eyes_  


Severus resists the urge to tell Molly to bugger off, and he gives her his best glare in response. “I can assure you whatever occurred between Potter and myself was entirely consensual and absolutely none of your business.”

Molly looks confused and then her face clears and she waves her hand, her cheeks flushing pink. “Goodness, Severus. You are two grown men, I have no interest in knowing the details of your recent encounters. I mean pretending to be _dead_. You allowed the poor boy to mourn you for _years_ without-”

Severus cuts Molly off with a snarl. “Potter was hardly moping over _my_ demise. I refuse to believe it for a moment.”

“Stubborn as ever.” Molly huffs and deposits her outer cloak, taking a seat opposite Severus. “Of course you refuse to believe it. He spent years seeking you out, do you know that? Even when we insisted you were dead, he wouldn't believe it for a moment.” Molly rummages in a well-used bag and pulls out a file, thick with parchment and well-thumbed. “Harry's file. He doesn't know I have this, of course. Arthur managed to retrieve it from Harry's office.”

“He stole it, you mean.”

Molly cuts Severus off with a stern look. “That's hardly the point. I think you need to read this to understand that whatever you are doing is not just a game for Harry - it never has been.”

Severus lets out a harrumph of displeasure and toys with the parchment inside the file. He's itching to read the notes he can see, scribbled in mottled spots of ink and tiny sketches, presumably while Potter conducted research late into the night. He wonders if he should feel violated, but instead he only feels sad - an aching hole in his heart which Harry's presence had started to fill.

“Foolish boy. Potter is the most powerful man in wizarding Britain. You cannot expect me to believe he’s sent you to fight his battles?”

“Harry has no idea I'm here. He would be furious if he knew - absolutely furious.”

“I'm sure he'd get over it.” Severus opens the file, unable to resist. The pieces of parchment are tightly packed together, each one bearing more scribbled notes. He looks at the tiny script and the fastidious attention to detail, and the thick lettering on the top of the first page entitled _Professor Snape_. A wave of sadness creeps over him, dulling the warmth in the room. He thinks of Potter's bursts of laughter and the wide-eyed look he would get when Severus gave him a few words of praise. 

“Perhaps you should learn not to meddle in other people's business.” Severus gives Molly a withering look and she holds his gaze firmly, without retreating.

“I have known you for many years, Severus Snape, and I know exactly what you're doing - even if Harry doesn't. You can pretend with him all you like but you can't pull the wool over my eyes.”

“Merlin forbid.” Severus knows he sounds grouchy and petulant, but being ticked off by Molly makes him feel strangely small. “What precisely do you think I'm trying to conceal?”

Molly shakes her head, a soft laugh falling from her lips. It's a strange, sad sound, which carries little humour. “Harry has a way with people - a warmth. It makes him very easy to love.”

“It makes him very annoying,” Severus points out.

Molly laughs again and tuts under her breath, before her face takes on an altogether more serious expression. “There was a time I would have given a great deal to see Harry happy with a member of my own family. It isn't easy coming here when I know with us he would be able to find unreserved warmth, love and happiness. He wanted for so much during his young years, to think of him being with someone incapable of giving him everything he deserves hurts me more than I can possibly explain.”

“You know nothing of my past - nothing of what I am _capable_ of giving.” Severus bristles at Molly's insinuation. “I suppose you find the age difference between us abhorrent? You imagine I will corrupt Potter just as I allowed myself to be corrupted.”

“Don't tell me what I think, Severus.” Molly pats Severus' hand, her expression reminding him of Albus. He purses his lips in a tight line and resists snapping at her, yanking his hand away from the soft touch. “I am simply making you aware of Harry's situation. He is so many things to so many people, he has such pressure on his shoulders almost daily...he was never allowed to be a child.” Molly wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, fighting back a sniffle. “He's like a son to me, and I will not see him unhappy - I will not see him with someone who cannot provide all of the affection he deserves.”

“There are a number of willing suitors from your own family, I imagine. Plenty of eager witches and wizards his own age. Why are you bothering me with the details of Potter's shortcomings?”

Molly sighs. “Because he doesn't want anybody else. For reasons which are quite beyond me, it seems he has set his sights on a grumpy, foolish man who is determined to be lonely and miserable for the rest of his life. If you play at being dead long enough, you may just become so.”

Molly's words sting, and Severus replies, tightly, familiar feelings of inadequacy making his heart clench. “You believe I am unworthy of the boy?”

“Harry thinks you’re more than worthy, and we learned to place our trust in his instinct a long time ago. There's still time to make amends, if you’re prepared to let him in.” Molly smiles. “Or should I say, if you are prepared to admit that you're already rather taken with him.”

“You come into my home and presume to tell me my own feelings?” Severus' voice is thick with undisguised emotion and he clears his throat, his tone taking on a sharp edge. “What do you know of any of this?”

“I've been married for a long time, Severus.” Molly's face lights up, her eyes softening and he cheeks flushing pink. “I know more about matters of the heart than most.” She pauses, and lowers her voice. “I also know a good match when I see it, however unexpected it might appear to others.”

Severus gives Molly his very best glare but, for once, chooses not to argue.

*

Severus steps through the Floo at Grimmauld Place, a soft light from upstairs seemingly the only one in the dark house. The portraits scream silently at him, and he passes them with a gesture which he hopes says _piss off_ in no uncertain terms. He reaches the lit room to find Harry immersed in an enormous book, sitting up in his bed and reading from the light from his wand.

  
[](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/crossfest_mod/69766898/4710/4710_original.jpg)   
_Reading by Wandlight_  


“I see you decided to leave the disguise at home.” Harry doesn’t look up from his book, but turns the page slowly. “I didn’t think it would take you this long.”

Severus perches on the edge of the bed and watches Harry read, noting how his eyes don’t seem to follow the words on the page. “How long have you known?”

“I knew before I sent you the owl, _Professor_.” Finally, Harry closes the book and he looks up. His expression is firm and serious. “I’m the bloody Minister. Did you honestly think I’d put everything on the line without having done a bit of research first?”

“It seems you’ve done rather a lot of research.” Severus puts the file on the bed between them. “Why?”

The colour drains from Harry’s face and he snatches the file, shoving it into a nearby drawer. “Who gave you that?”

“Someone with your best interests at heart.” Severus folds his hands in his lap, watching as Potter pushes back the duvet and stands. His pyjamas are long and pool around his ankles, the material thick burgundy tartan with slim gold lines running through the material. “Always the Gryffindor,” Severus murmurs, but Harry doesn’t seem to hear.

“They shouldn’t have given you that – whoever it was. It’s private.”

“It’s about _my_ life. It is hardly private to me.”

“You’re cross?” Pink spots flare in Potter’s cheeks and he stops pacing.

“Not cross. Simply curious.” Severus gestures to the spot Harry recently vacated. “Why don’t you sit?”

“Because.” Harry doesn’t elaborate, folding his arms over his chest. He looks around the room, reminding Severus of a caged dragon unable to take flight. “Cup of tea?”

“If you wish.” Severus stands and lets Harry lead the way.

When Harry turns to Severus, he gives him a smile which fills Severus with warmth.

“Makes everything better, doesn’t it? A good cup of tea, I mean.”

Severus brushes his hand over the small of Harry’s back, allowing himself a low snort of laughter. 

“Clearly, you have yet to discover whisky.”

*

Despite his protestations, the piping hot cup of tea eases the tension in the air. Steam clouds Harry’s glasses and he pulls them off, cleaning them on his t-shirt.

“I went to find your body after the final battle. It took me a while to get back there, but I had to know. I couldn’t leave you there. I thought you should be in the Great Hall with the others – the heroes that fell that day.”

“How touching.” Severus says it with a hint of sarcasm but he is touched, in truth. 

Harry shrugs. “It was the right thing to do.” He sips his tea and winces. “Bodies don’t just evaporate into thin air – they don’t just disappear. I didn’t believe you were dead – not for one minute.”

“So you decided to unearth my secrets?” Severus raises and eyebrow, his voice level. “To what end?”

“I have no idea.” Harry looks miserable and his glasses cloud again as he studies he tea. He yanks them off with a curse and drops them on the table, looking at Severus with a half-smile. “Now you’re soft around the edges.”

“I am hardly that.” Severus meets Harry’s smile with a smirk, and he takes a careful sip of his drink, imagining how Potter might see him – wavering and fuzzy in the candlelight. “What on earth possessed you to continue our sessions, after you satisfied your initial curiosity?”

“I was curious about the other stuff too.” Potter flushes and he opens a pack of biscuits, holding one between his fingers and dipping it into the tea. The chocolate melts on his fingers and he sucks them into his mouth one at a time. The gesture is strangely disarming and Severus wonders how many people get to see the Minister for Magic in Gryffindor coloured nightwear, eating chocolate digestives. “The stuff about wanting to explore new things – that was all true.”

“I see.” Severus ponders Harry. “And was it everything you imagined?”

“Sort of.” Harry pulls a face. “When I thought about it, I always imagined _you_. I thought you’d have a dark room filled with cauldrons and bottles of potions in alphabetical order. I thought maybe I’d be chopping flobberworms or learning how to brew, and then maybe...” Harry flushes. “Well, you know how the rest would go.”

“I can imagine.” Severus’ voice is rougher than usual and he studies Potter. “You wished to be back at Hogwarts?”

“Perhaps.” Harry shrugs. “I miss it. I missed _you_ stalking around the corridors like an overgrown bat and telling me off for nicking your Gillyweed. Merlin knows why.”

“Because you miss being a teenager with little more to worry about than killing a Dark Lord.” Severus lets Harry’s less than complimentary observations slide, and feels a smile tug at his lips. Molly’s words about Potter never having had a proper childhood leave a dull ache in his heart. He and Potter are alike in that, albeit for entirely different reasons.

“That must be it.” Harry laughs. “It’s not much fun being Minister. I never wanted it, you know.”

“I’m aware.” Severus inclines his head, watching the conflicting emotions flicker across Harry’s face. “I have followed your progress since the war. Do you envisage being in the role for much longer?”

“Another year or two should do it.”

“Then what?”

Harry returns to staring at his tea, another chocolate digestive hovering about the hot liquid. “I have absolutely no idea.”

*

Eventually Severus persuades Harry to swap mugs of piping hot tea for a hot whisky with cloves. Harry digs a bottle out from the depths of one of his cupboards, the label old and dusty and the bottle unopened. He unscrews the lid and takes a cautious sniff, handing the bottle to Severus. “You reckon it’s still good?”

“It’s whisky not cheese.” Severus takes the bottle and gives Harry a look.

Harry lifts himself up onto the kitchen counter and lets his legs swing back and forth, his heels knocking against the cupboards below. He flicks his wand and sends a small pot of cloves across the kitchen, settling them next to the stove. “Is that all you need?”

“Do you have a little honey and cinnamon?” Severus prefers his whisky neat and cold as a rule, but the thought of Potter’s sugary tea and packet of biscuits leaves him prepared to make an exception, just this once.

“Here you go.” Harry retrieves the ingredients with another quick flick of his wand, watching Severus curiously. “You cook?”

“You’re surprised?” Severus snorts softly and stirs the ingredients together, perusing the bottle briefly. “For someone who doesn’t drink much liquor, you have good taste.”

“Oh.” Harry’s smile falters. “It’s not mine. I think Sirius left it here. Before he…”

“Ah. Yes.” Severus adds water and a squeeze of lemon to the mixture before placing the hot, spicy liquid in two mugs and changing the subject. “Would I be right in assuming you no longer wish for our sessions to continue?”

Harry sniffs his drink and takes a tentative sip, a smile spreading across his face. “Hey, this is good. Really good.” He takes another sip and his expression turns serious. “Do you still want me to pay you?”

Severus bristles and resists the urge to cast a Stinging Hex at Potter. “No, you silly little twit. I don’t want payment. It is also my intention to refund – in full – any prior payments.”

“What about other clients?” Harry squints a little as if trying to see Severus properly without his glasses, and Severus assists by moving closer. 

He brushes Harry’s hair from his forehead and hums thoughtfully. “There would not be any other clients.”

“Not even me?” Harry’s voice is low, and rough.

“Not even you.”

“What would I be?”

Severus rolls his eyes and gives Harry a glare. “Must we put a label on these things, Potter?” 

“It’s important.” Harry gives Severus a blinding smile and wraps his arms around his neck. “We could just be Severus and Harry, if you like?”

“That would be…acceptable.” It’s been so long since Severus has been part of a couple, even the innocuous suggestion of being Severus _and_ sets his heart racing. He buries his face in Harry’s neck, breathing in the scent of him. 

“I’d like to do the other stuff still – and more.” Harry’s lips move against Severus’ cheek, and he places light, fluttering kisses at the corner of Severus’ mouth. His fingers slide through Severus’ hair, and he urges Severus closer. “Is that acceptable too?”

Severus snorts and runs his thumb over Harry’s cheek, stilling his movements so Severus can just drink in the sight of him for a moment. “I imagine you will require frequent correction. Wilful, impertinent brat that you are.”

Harry shivers as if the words please him, and his eyes take on a hungry look. “You’ll be in charge?”

“Most certainly.” Severus brushes their lips together, holding Harry’s chin lightly. “I will take pleasure in it.” He pauses, thinking about Harry’s comment about being back at Hogwarts. “However, I believe we should have our next session in my laboratory.”

“With potions and cauldrons and things?” Harry’s enthusiasm doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Yes, Potter. I am quite sure I can put you to good use during a prolonged series of detentions.” Severus smirks as Harry lets out a low groan. He puts his hands on Harry’s thighs and squeezes lightly, moving his hands to Harry’s backside to pull him close against his body. 

“I’ve got one request, though.” Harry’s gives Severus a sheepish smile, and Severus kisses the corner of his mouth which tastes faintly of whisky and chocolate digestives.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.” Harry runs his fingers down Severus’ arm, pushing up the sleeve of his shirt and looking at the Mark. He strokes his fingers against it, without fear, trepidation or disgust. He just looks nervous, as if he expects his request to be denied. “I wanted you to like my essay. Even though it was just a stupid game…it mattered.”

Severus’ mind whirs and he tips Harry’s chin up so their eyes meet. “Perhaps your _punishments_ should be rewards?” 

“I’ll never get anywhere if we play that game.” Harry looks so morose, Severus can’t help but laugh. He gives Harry a slow kiss, keeping it light and full of promise. “You would be surprised. I can be rather generous when I’m not forced to give House Points to Gryffindors. Rewards of the nature I am envisaging are mutually beneficial, after all.”

“Is that right?” Harry grins, and Severus nods.

“Indeed.” He pauses, his thumb stroking over Harry’s cheek again. His chin is already rough with the light shadow of stubble, and his eyes have the fierce, determined look Severus rather enjoys. He looks into Harry’s eyes, searching for an answer which might explain why Potter’s affections seem to have latched so firmly onto Severus. “Gillyweed. Was that simply to throw me?”

“Yes and no.” Harry begins to unbutton Severus’ shirt, his lips tugging into a smile. “It’s not a coincidence my safe word reminds me of you.”

The statement takes Severus by surprise and he stills Harry’s hand to process his response. His voice is gruff when he can finally speak again. “Sentimental Gryffindor.”

Harry slides off the kitchen counter and presses his body close to Severus. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Severus kisses Harry properly at last, pressing him against the cupboards and sliding his arms around his waist, pulling him close. Harry kisses back firmly, giving just as good as he gets. He tries to take control, fisting his hand in Severus’ hair and guiding their kisses until Severus breaks away. He gives Harry a look, his eyebrow arched.

“I’m not surprised people think you like to be in charge.”

“I suppose I do, sometimes.” Harry shrugs and his cheeks heat. “I’m not sure how to do it any other way.” His hands twine and he looks shattered, his hair haywire and his eyes framed with shadows.

Severus strokes his fingers over Harry’s arm before lacing their fingers together. Without a word, he leads Harry upstairs. He finds his way to the bathroom and flicks his wand to start the shower. He tugs Harry’s pyjamas off until he’s naked. Severus strips out of his things, nudging Harry into the shower. When Harry tries to kiss him, he captures Harry’s lips briefly before turning him.

“ _Relax_.” Severus murmurs against Harry’s neck. He slides his hands over Harry’s arms until the tension melts from Harry’s body. He works his fingers over Harry’s shoulders, kneading away the tension there. He slides his hand into Harry’s hair, working soap into it and pressing kisses from the base of Harry’s ear down his neck and over his shoulder. The water rains down from the shower and washes the soap from Harry’s hair in rivulets which dot his skin. Severus moves his hands over Harry’s back, feeling every shiver and tremble. 

“ _Fuck_.” Harry’s voice is rough and throaty, a laugh catching in his throat and leaving him with a gasp. “You washed my hair.”

“Observant as ever, Potter.” Severus snorts and he slides his fingers lower still, pressing against Harry. “I did, however, have other plans.”

“Thank Merlin for that.” Harry laughs properly now, his body pliant in Severus’ hands. “I thought you didn’t like to take people by surprise?”

Severus smirks against Harry’s skin and he trails his fingers lower, murmuring a lubricating spell which leaves his fingers slick even as the water continues to pound over their bodies.

“Are my intentions not sufficiently clear?” He runs his fingers along Harry’s crease, speaking against his skin.

“N-no. They’re clear. Oh _god_.” Harry presses his hands against the tiles and he looks back to give Severus an awkward kiss. “Don’t you want-?”

“I have what I want.” Severus rubs his fingers over Harry, feeling him twitch and press back to the touch. Eventually when Harry’s breath comes in jagged huffs, he works a finger into Harry with a slow slide. The tight heat of him makes Severus bite down on Harry’s shoulder with a groan. He presses another finger into Harry, pushing deep inside him and fucking him with slow intensity. “I can assure you I will let you know if there is anything I require.”

“ _Please_.” Harry’s breath leaves him in a rush as he presses back against Severus. He grinds against Severus’ hand and he pushes back with a low groan. “Please fuck me.”

With a low growl, Severus slides his fingers from Harry. Something inside him snaps and he grips Harry’s hips with force. He pushes him against the tiles, eliciting another deep moan of pleasure from Harry. His cock aches and heat floods his body, burning through his veins. Harry’s low groans of pleasure slide through him like warm whisky, heating his body and making his head spin. He positions himself before pushing inside Harry, just as Harry moves back to meet him. He grips Harry’s hand and moves it over his head, holding it in place as he wraps his other arm around Harry’s chest so he can see every emotion cross Harry’s features.

Harry moves his head back, his lips parting and his eyes closing as Severus pushes inside him. Severus keeps his movements as slow and deep as he can – it’s been a long time but age is (for once) on his side. Harry’s cock is already leaking, thick and hard. Severus murmurs in Harry’s ear, his voice rough.

“Make yourself come, Harry.”

Harry’s only response is to let out another shuddering breath and to press back against Severus, urging Severus to move faster. He drops his hand to his cock and begins to stroke it with practiced finesse, his tongue flicking over his lips. He’s mesmerising, and Severus can’t tear his eyes from Harry. The sensations of Harry’s body clenching around Severus come not a moment too soon and Severus bites back a groan at Harry’s shout of pleasure. He pulls out of Harry after catching his breath, and soaps himself quickly before speaking to Harry with a low growl. “On your knees.”

Harry obliges, his eyes dark and full of desire. He slides to his knees and takes Severus deep into his throat, sliding his lips over Severus’ cock with fervour. With a groan, Severus takes the opportunity to lean against the solid wall of the shower. The sight of Potter on his knees like this is enough to make anyone weak limbed and unsteady on their feet, he reassures himself. He tangles his hand in Harry’s hair and pushes into his mouth with quick thrusts until Harry’s lips are plump and Severus feels the familiar sensation of his orgasm overwhelming him as his cock pulses deep in Harry’s throat.

When he’s fully spent, Severus flicks off the shower and helps Harry to his feet. He captures his lips in a deep, searching kiss and tastes himself on Harry’s tongue. Harry’s lips are warm and wet from the shower, the taste of soap and water mingling with the light flavour of whisky and _Harry_. Severus pulls away eventually and casts a drying charm when he sees Harry shiver.

“You are a wizard, are you not?”

“Not just any wizard. I’m actually the Minister for Magic.” Harry’s broad smile is back, his eyes shine. Severus arches an eyebrow in response and Harry laughs. “I’m pretty powerful.”

Severus snorts and gives Harry’s backside a swat, nudging him out of the shower. “Such a powerful wizard probably needs to go to work in a few hours. I believe your country needs you.”

Harry collapses onto the bed with a groan, and reaches for Severus. “Bugger.”

Severus joins Harry on the bed, tugging him into his arms. Before he can say another word, the fire flares and Arthur Weasley’s face appears in the flames. 

“Don’t mean to interrupt, Harry. I just wanted to let you know we’ve all agreed you’re long overdue a week off. Molly tells me you were looking very tired when she visited the other day.”

“We can look after everything at the Ministry, Harry.” Granger’s voice comes from behind Arthur, trailing off into a giggle. 

“We’ll be able to look after everything, mate. Just…don’t tell me about it, I don’t want to know. Ow! Hermione!”

“What Ron means is, just enjoy yourself and don’t worry about a thing.” 

“Even the Prime Minister takes holiday, Harry.” Arthur shushes the voices in the background, coughing when a loud Weasley voice filters into the room.

“ _Professor_ Snape? Wait, isn’t he dead?”

Harry gives Severus an apologetic look as Arthur’s head disappears from the flames and the voices disappear.

“I’m sorry. I told them you were alive after our fight. I had to talk to someone. They won’t say anything to anyone, not if you don’t want them to. We can keep it secret, if you like.”

Severus props himself up on his elbow, and studies Harry. He brushes a damp strand of hair from Harry’s face and takes in his worried, earnest expression. “You would be content to hide away from the world?”

Harry looks miserable. “I could do it. I mean, I would. You didn’t ask for any of this.”

“To the contrary, I rather think I _did_.” Severus turns to lie on his back and looks at the ceiling, lifting his arm when Harry burrows against his side, Harry’s cold toes against his leg making him feel strangely warm. “I am a former Death Eater, Potter. I am capable of handling Rita Skeeter if she becomes too irritating.” Severus allows himself an indulgent smile at the thought of devising a suitable hex of some sort.

Harry laughs. He kisses the curve of Severus’ neck, his voice muffled. “I don’t have to be up early anymore.”

“The perks of youth.” Severus turns his head to distract Harry from his kisses. “Do you have any particular plans?”

“A few. If you’re interested.” Harry moves over Severus and trails another line of distracting kisses over Severus’ chest. He shifts to kiss Severus’ arm, his lips hovering just over the Dark Mark. Severus clenches his hand into a slow fist, a hiss leaving his lips. He moves to yank his arm away when Harry catches him. “Don’t. Please don’t.”

Severus closes his eyes, his breathing shallow.

Soft lips press against the part of his arm laced with criss-cross scars and Severus swallows, and for the first time in five years the touch of flesh against flesh doesn’t burn.

_~Fin~_

**Author's Note:**

> Please show your appreciation for the author here, or on [LIVEJOURNAL](http://hp-crossgenfest.livejournal.com/24383.html)! ♥


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